Silence of the Hart
by TheHamsterInMyMind
Summary: Why is Reba refusing to speak to him? What had he done? What was there left to do?


**AN:** Another attempt that I've finally managed to post here. ()" Hope it's okay. Anyway, feedback as always, is greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothin'.

**The Silence of the Hart**

Brock knew that Reba would be annoyed that he had barged in again, but he never expected her to go to this extreme. She had yet to speak a single word to him no matter what he did to get her attention, entirely focused on the novel she was reading on the couch. He had even yelled in her ear, but she didn't even respond. The only indication he had that he might have been getting to her was her obvious distraction. She had yet to turn a page while reading, instead opting for staring at the same page in front of her for long periods at a time.

"Okay, Reba! I'll play your game!"

With that, he sat down and began to study the room around him, her living room… what use to be their living room. Walking to one of the pictures on the shelf, he smiled as he took it off to see it more closely. It was from Jake's first birthday. Reba was the one who took the picture. He had had his hands full trying to keep a furious Cheyenne from pummeling Jake, who had taken a chunk of the Birthday cake and attached it to her hair. Meanwhile, Kyra, always more mature than the norm, was already showing her teenage attitude at that young age. If he remembered correctly, her exact words had been, "Cheyenne, that look suits you." All Reba could do after taking the picture was clutch her side as she practically rolled on the floor from laughter. It was certainly one of the more memorable moments in their twenty years together.

As he stared at the picture, he couldn't help but wonder where they had gone wrong in their marriage… They had been so happy together, and now, his marriage to BJ was also strained. He sighed as he moved to place the picture back on the shelf only to have it slip from his hand and fall to the ground, the frame splintering from the impact. 'Uh-Oh.'

Scared, he turned to look at Reba, readying himself for the windstorm. He was once against surprised though when she remained close-mouthed. She placed down her novel and wineglass and came to slowly pick up the broken pieces.

She had never managed to sulk for this long before, and it worried him. Did he do anything recently that would particularly anger her? This had been his biggest fear when she had threatened to disconnect herself from him completely the day Kyra had decided to move in with him, but even then, she hadn't kept up her threat. He had to admit though that he had some outside influences to thank for that. He decided that he had had enough of her silence. "Reba? Honey?"

Bending down to help her, he was horrified to find tears running down her cheeks. What had happened? What could have possibly made her so upset? He was going to hurt whoever or whatever it was though, unless it was himself… He was about to reach and steady her shaking hand, gripping the photo in the broken photo frame so tightly that he was worried she would get cut. About an inch away from touching her though, she had jolted up when they both heard Van come in the back door.

"Mrs. H! I brought some groceries! Cheyenne is bringing Elizabeth in! Be careful! She has a new tooth coming in, and she's a lean, mean biting machine." Brock could only watch as Reba walked with her continued cold-shoulder into the kitchen to greet Van, her daughter, and her grandchild with, from what he could see in this vantage point, a warm hug and big smile. 'What did I do?'

Torn between leaving now and maybe offer Reba some of the space she needed or confronting her, he dragged a hand through his hair in exasperation. Better yet, he decided, he would wait to corner Cheyenne or Van and ask them why she was so angry with him.

His plan was ruined however when Van and Cheyenne left to take Elizabeth on a play-date after he heard Reba assuring them of something or other, and she once again returned. Deciding that maybe it would be best to just let her anger bleed out, he sat down on the armchair to wait it out, his stubbornness winning out. Promptly, he fell asleep.

XxX

When he woke up, it was already night, and the house was dark. Deciding to check and see if Reba was already asleep before going home, he found light flowing into the hallway from her open bedroom door. Peeking around the door jam, ready to run if he needed to, he found her sitting in her bed, dressed in her nightwear and looking through a photo album. Tears were streaming down her face.

"Oh Brock…"

Shocked that she was finally speaking to him, he wasn't sure that he had heard her at all since she had said it so softly.

"Why did you leave?"

Confused by her statement, he made to approach her only to have a sudden wave of dizziness overwhelm him. "What the –" Placing a hand against the wall to support himself, he felt himself pulled into the depths of a distant memory filled with darkness, sirens, and red… red as dark as blood… _his_ blood he realized. With a shock, he pulled out of the memory and stared at his ex-wife. "Reba, what had happened? Reba? Reba!"

'Oh, God…'

He had died. She wasn't ignoring him. She didn't even _know_ he was there. Walking quickly towards her, he reached for her face hesitantly, afraid that as a ghost, or spirit, or whatever he was, he wouldn't be able to touch her and pass right through instead. He let out a breath of relief when he made contact with the curve of her cheek but this small moment of happiness was quickly smothered by horror and sadness.

He could touch her, but he couldn't _feel_ her. There was no warmth, no life, no sensation except for the unbearable agony inside as he realized what the physical touch felt like. It was like glass. There was an invisible, infinitely thin barrier separating him from what he once had, in more ways than one. This was real torture. Then he realized that it must be infinitely worse for her, she who couldn't even see him nonetheless touch him. He at least had the illusion of touch as a comfort, and he could still watch over her and the rest of his family. He'll wait for them. With this decision, he slowly slid onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her.

XxX

Maybe it was her imagination, or maybe it was desperation, but Reba thought she could feel a familiar warmth envelop her as she lay there in bed with her tears and her memories, and the exhaustion that had built up in the past couple of weeks finally caught up as she fell asleep. Slipping into dreams of the distant and not-so-distant past, she thought that she could hear his voice again, a whisper but still the same lazy, lilting mellow voice she had fallen in love with. "I'll always be here."

_Fine_.


End file.
